


The Crime of You

by Glacy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angst and Humor, Asexual Character, Awkward Romance, Bad Jokes, Blushing, Detectives, E-mail, Especially Emil, F/F, I wouldn't kill any of the original YoI kids, Investigations, JJ is famous, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Slow Burn, They need love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9212870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glacy/pseuds/Glacy
Summary: When Emil started his career as a detective he knew he was giving up all his free time and family life. He didn't mind. His colleges became his friends - his work turned into his lover.But then he met him.Stubborn and beautiful, Michele Crispino charges into his life and Emil is suddenly not sure what his priorities are.





	1. Negativity, be gone!

**Author's Note:**

> Emil is a detective and probably has a better idea how an investigation looks like than I do.  
> There is a brief description of a corpse. And the characters aren't as funny and easy-going as we know them. To be fair, they are older and have sombre jobs.
> 
> Medical examiner - the person doing the autopsy
> 
> Enjoy <3

“It’s unusual for a woman to be a medical examiner.”

Sara shot him a glare.

“Do you want to know how many times people have told me the exact same thing?”

“So many times you’ve lost count?” Emil suggested with an apologetic smile. He forgot to think before speaking. Again.

“Actually, no. I’ve been out of school for only two years so I can tell you exactly how many times I’ve heard it.”

“That’s impressive. Both the fact that you are still counting and that you are the head medical examiner at your age.”

“You don’t look so old yourself,” she looked him up and down. Emil flinched under her purple gaze. She was a beautiful woman, he could tell. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, probably because of her rushing here in the middle of the night. The white cloak looked baggy on her, being too big for her slender figure. Emil pulled his eyes away from her. Now wasn’t the time to admire his new college.

“Well, yeah, I guess we are about the same age,” he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “I am sorry if I offended you earlier. I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t worry, I am used to it,” she waved his apology away.

“No, that doesn’t make it okay. Really.”

Sara’s lips parted as she was about to give him a response, but then she decided otherwise. She looked at the dead body lying in front of them. A mute, cold witness to their conversation.

“So, what does it look like?” she asked, turning professional.

“Freezing. The coroner is pretty sure this fella drank too much, lost balance and ended up in the river,” he said as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, “He managed to get to the shore but probably was too exhausted to get help.”

“That sounds exactly as it looks like,” Sara commented, bowing a little to get a better view, “These are the highest level frostbites. It’s impressive you managed to get him here in one piece.”

“Poor guy,” Emil frowned.

“Yeah…” she straightened her back, “Why do you want me to check him?”

“He was meant to be the next CEO of YOI Corporation and his wife said he never drank more than two beers so…” he didn’t need to finish.

Sara put a thumb on her chin and nodded. “Got it. I will look for any weird chemicals in his alimentary canal.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s my job.”

“I will come back around morning?”

“Yeah… sure…” Sara mumbled but it was clear she didn’t hear his question. Her focus was on the dead body.

Emil left her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her autopsy to be successful. But his feelings or wishes didn’t matter. Not in this kind of job. If the guy was drugged and someone helped him into that river, Emil would find him and put him behind the bars. If it was an accident, he will say his condolences to his wife. He always felt horrible doing that – but at least this woman wasn’t going to struggle with money. Her dead husband seemed like the kind of man to have a high life insurance.

“Sir,” said a soft voice beside him, “Go and take a nap, sir.”

“Ah, Guang Hong, they woke you up too?” Emil turned to face his subordinate with a surprised smile, but actually felt bad for the younger man.

“Yes, sir, but I feel fully awake!”

“Well, that’s great to hear. But I would still prefer if you went home now. If I recall correctly you have a morning shift, don’t you?”

“I don’t need to sleep,” protested Guang Hong, but the bags under his eyes told a different story.

“Then at least take a nap in the service room. I will wake you up when your force is needed.”

“Will you, sir?” Guang Hong asked with one of his eye-brows frowned.

Emil laughed. “You see right through me, don’t you?”

Guang Hong shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I didn’t mean to imply that you look tired, sir, but you are the one who should get some rest.”

“Should I? Well then. I will sleep for an hour if you will.”

“Sir, that’s…”

Emil patted him on the back, kindly pushing him toward the service room. “You can set an alarm, if you don’t trust me.”

“I never meant to imply that…” started Guang Hong frantically, but Emil disturbed him.

“I know. I also know that you worked overtime today. Heck, was it today or is it already yesterday?”

Guang Hong whipped his phone from his trousers’ pocket and looked at the screen. “It was yesterday, sir.”

“Thanks. Also, nice wallpaper,” Emil smiled at the sight of a kind looking man with longer brown hair seated on a stump.

Guang Hong’s face turned red. “Thank you, sir.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“N-no!” the younger one answered quickly. Maybe too quickly.

Emil unlocked the door of the service room, deciding not to push this issue any further.

“Well, I hope your dreams will be sweet. Don’t drool too much on the pillow,” he teased, as he let Guang Hong inside.

The younger man looked a little flushed by his words. Emil was still getting used to it. He liked Guang Hong. He was one of the most kind-hearted people he ever met. Maybe that was why Emil felt a little weird about being called _sir_ all the time. He was only two years older. And a few ranks higher. But who cares about ranks? Emil didn’t. He wanted to be friends with Guang Hong. Heck, he wanted to be friends with everyone.

A recollection of his words to the pretty medical examiner stung him. He acted like an ass, blurring out the first thing that came to his mind. She transferred from across the country just yesterday and he already made an awful impression by acting like an oblivious bigot. He thought about how to redeem himself in Sara’s eyes, when his phone buzzed.

_You have one event planned for today._

“Crap,” Emil cursed and wrote a quick apologetic text. He was supposed to have a day off.

His family was already used to his seat being empty, but it still bothered him. He wanted to be there for once.

A loud bang resonated through the hall.

Emil turned to see Georgi trying to balance a skeleton, so that the skull won’t fall off, while a box was slipping from his other hand. And two others were already on the floor.

“I’ve got it!” Emil rushed and caught it, placing it on the floor.

“Thank you,” Georgi exhaled.

“Another new scene?” Emil asked, picking up all the boxes.

“Yeah, Altin said the previous one was too creepy. Kids didn’t like it.”

Emil glanced at the skeleton. “I may see why he would think that.”

“But it’s supposed to be a crime scene! There are pools of blood, lungs everywhere, bones and spider webs hanging from the ceiling… we can’t romanticize this!” Georgi started, gesticulating widely with his free arm. The skull wiggled.

“A crime scene is an uneasy place. But why the skeleton?” asked Emil as they waited for the elevator.

“Doctor Razboinik was murdered in his cabinet this time.”

“Oh, right!” Emil remembered, “How many of the kids solved it?”

“None,” Georgi’s smile was smug, “I didn’t leave any trace behind.”

Emil wasn’t sure if that was something to be happy about. On the other hand, no one was as eager to set crime scenes for kids as Georgi. He had a passion for making doctor Razboinik suffer and die many times over in many different ways. On the other hand, Emil wasn’t so sure if the children got the right picture about what an investigation looks like.

They chatted in the elevator. The topic of the upcoming Christmas party came up.

“I will bring Anya along this time,” Georgi said proudly.

“Man, I thought you two broke up,” Emil said, completely aware that the infamous brake up occurred eight months ago. That’s when doctor Razboinik first entered their prepared crime scenes.

“She will soon realize I am her true beloved,” said Georgi, putting the skeleton down. The skull was there but one of the radial bones went missing. Georgi didn’t pay that fact any attention.

“Maybe you can bring along someone else?” Emil suggested.

“No, Anya is the only woman in my eyes.”

“It can be a man.”

“Emil…” Georgi looked a little fazed, “I appreciate your suggestion, but no.”

Emil laughed. “Alright. Do you need my help with anything?”

“No, I am fine. Last time I had someone helping me it turned into an utterly bloodless, and very boring, crime scene about doctor Razboinik choking on his own vomit after drinking too much.”

“That was part of the _Don’t drink, think!_ campaign, wasn’t it?” Emil rubbed his beard, “I remember kids asking me if they will have these red spots all over their body if they start to choke.”

“The red paint is very hard to clean from the figurine,” Georgi explained and pressed his lips together.

“Well, if you need anything, I am upstairs. If you change your mind I am free to give you a hand,” Emil winked and turned. He had a few hours. It was hard to determinate how long the autopsy will take, so he’d rather stay. He lived quite close, but it would still be prolonging the investigation if he wasn’t here when a new evidence was discovered. It would give the culprit more time to run or hide.

Emil sighed. He really hoped this case wasn’t going to turn into one of the endless ones. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt remorse after every unsolved case. As if he failed everyone. Not only the family and friends of the dead but even himself.

He entered the bathroom.

“Negativity, be gone!” he yelled at his reflection in the mirror and smiled.

Yes, no matter what happens, he will do his best. Because that’s the way his life is. That’s the way _he_ is.


	2. The joy within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guang Hong can't hide his inner fanboy any longer.
> 
> Emil thinks he acted like a bigot by pointing out Sara's gender.
> 
> Otabek makes an appearence. 
> 
> And Michele is still nowhere in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do regular updates on thursdays sound?

They were driving, Emil behind the steering wheel, radio on. It was already late afternoon, the sun low and shadows long. Buildings bathed in crimson sunshine. The melancholy of the scenery collided with a cheerful song that was filling the silence in the car.

“It seems we didn’t turn into zombies in the end,” Emil said, looking on the road ahead. Before he had drank his third coffee, he felt like he became a caffeine craving monster.

“I think I might become one very soon…” Guang Hong admitted, biting his lip. His eyes were red from both exhaustion and from looking through several hours of camera footage.

“Well, at least we did some solid progress. Good job today, Guang Hong,” Emil tried to cheer him on.

“Thank you, sir.” The younger man managed to smile. The song ended and Emil already missed its lively tunes.

“I know we’ve already talked about it, but I would really prefer if you could just call me by-”

“Oh my god!” The younger man perked up in his seat, “This song! It’s from Leo’s new album!”

“Whose?” Emil asked, not recognizing the soft melody. On the other hand, he wouldn’t probably recognize even the most overplayed song ever.

“Leo de la Iglesia? He is, uhm, he is not very famous…” Guang Hong seemed somehow unsure.

“I don’t really keep up with the music scene, but this sounds awesome,” Emil listened for a while before continuing, “The sounds are soft, yet they somehow resonate…”

Guang Hong was suddenly full of beans. “I know, right? He does that all the time! And his voice is so full of emotions, it’s just… it’s so beautiful!”

“It is. Wait, you’ve said he isn’t very famous? How is it possible?”

“That baffles me too! He is way better than JJ if you ask me.”

Emil frowned a little. “JJ? Is that the guy who sings _Serve Me Well_?”

“That’s him,” Guang Hong confirmed, “Please sir, don’t tell me you like JJ style.”

“JJ _what_?”

“Oh, good,” Guang Hong placed one palm on his chest, “I was scared for a moment.”

“A war between fans?” Emil asked, lightly tapping the stirring wheel to the rhythm. Or he hoped it was to the rhythm. He was completely tone-deaf.

“It’s not a war. More of an occupation,” Guang Hong sighed, “Everyone loves JJ. And I admit that some of his songs are quite catchy, but since he became this big… well, the music community became so hateful! When someone new comes along, someone good, they don’t even give him a chance, claiming he is just copying their King when in reality that single was recorded way before JJ released _My Kingdom_ and, and…” Guang Hong tried to catch his breath, “I am babbling, aren’t I?”

“No, it’s fine! Tell me more. You were saying someone accused Leo of copying JJ?” Emil asked, completely pulled into this drama.

“Yeah! But it’s an utter nonsense!” Guang Hong gesticulated so violently his hand almost hit the window, “Really, I’ve checked when Leo first tweeted about writing a longer ballad-like composition – it was two months before JJ’s new single was even announced.”

“What? How can someone still say he is a copycat then?”

“They are all blinded by JJ style. They just aren’t able to accept that someone would make a better song.”

Emil shook his head. “That’s just stupid.”

“It is! I hate it so much,” Guang Hong sank on his seat, “I have to tweet about Leo’s song being on radio.”

He pulled out his phone, when suddenly his face went red. “Is that okay, sir?”

Emil looked at him with confusion. “Why wouldn’t it? Do anything to support him. Well, except crossing the law. I don’t want to change partner just yet.”

Guang Hong’s face was on fire. “Thank you, sir.”

“Emil,” he corrected him, “Please, call me Emil.”

“Y-yes, sir – I mean Emil!”

“Great,” the blond man laughed.

The last tones of the song, humming of the engine and Guang Hong’s thumbs tapping the screen were the only sounds in the car for a moment. Emil glanced at his partner and smiled. He was glad to see Guang Hong relaxed around him. They were paired up two months ago but it was the first time Emil wasn’t the one speaking the most. It made him absolutely sure they can become a great team.

Guang Hong exhaled and put his phone in his bag.

“Emil,” he said carefully, as if testing the name on his tongue, “can you- can you please be honest with me?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Well… was I annoying? I know that I can get a little overwhelmed by my feelings and rant and, well, be annoying.”

“What?” Emil raised his eyebrows, “I think it was really interesting! I learned so much – I feel a little more up to date to be honest.” He was never good in keeping up with the popculture, “And your friend Leo is great.”

“He is not my friend,” Guang Hong said, taken aback.

Out of the corner of his eye, Emil could see the flushed expression on Guang Hong’s face, but decided not to comment on it. He didn’t enjoy prying.

Instead he said: “Weren’t we supposed to turn right somewhere here?”

Five turns, two stops and countless confused conversations over a map later, they finally parked their car before a three-storey building. When they went up the wide marble stairs a sign told them they were an hour late. The headquarters of YOI Corp were closing at five.

*

The next day, Emil headed straight to the meeting room. It was already full, as he arrived late. Well, not exactly late. He may have just chatted with the accountant in the hallway for too long.

The captain came forward and everyone went quiet.

“I am glad you all came to today’s meeting,” Otabek gave them a stern look, “Please, sit down.”

The scratching of chairs was to be heard, but Otabek stood. Emil liked him, even though captain Altin never appreciated his jokes.

“Today, we will be discussing our quarterly statistics. I would also like to mention the rise of hot water consumption. It’s nearly the end of the year – and as some of you may know, that means our traditional Christmas Soiree is about to happen. Sadly, I am aware that not all of you,” he shot Emil a glare, “read frequently the notice board in the hall.”

“There is a notice board?” The blond man played amazement.

Otabek ignored him.

“If you’ve noticed, a few days ago there was placed a new pamphlet. The Quadloop Quartet got a more lucrative offer, so they cancelled and we are currently without a musician. We have to find a new one quickly, or we will play some music through the speakers.

There was a few groans and sighs. Three years ago the pianist they’d hired got sick – and no one wanted to experience an evening accompanied by a sputtering static music ever again.

“If your relative or acquaintance is a good,” Otabek put pressure on that word, “musician, feel free to let me know through email. Now, we will move to- What is it, Nekola?”

Emil put his hand down. “I think I know about a great musician. He is not my relative or anything and he doesn’t really do classics, but…”

“I am afraid we cannot have a rock band or such on the Soiree, but thank you for your enthusiasm. Let’s move to another topic. As I was saying earlier, the main building’s consumption of hot water drastically increased. I understand it’s winter and everyone enjoys a hot shower after a long day, but consider…”

Emil tried to pay attention. Yes, hot water. Environment. Crime rate. Solved cases. Holiday. Well, he didn’t need to pay attention to that. His last holiday was two years ago. He was called back in the middle of it because one man decided it was fun to set people’s houses on fire. The arsonist targeted the suburbs and their poorer inhabitants. Emil still felt anger running through his veins when he recalled the culprit’s smug face.

“You are dismissed.”

Everyone started clapping and rising.

“Sir, if I may for a word…” Georgi started stumbling through the chairs toward Otabek.

“Yes?”

“About the new crime scene I am making…”

Emil never saw many emotions on Otabek’s face, or maybe he was just bad at picking them up, but he would swear that for a moment the captain looked horrified.

_No, I must have imagined it_ , Emil shook his head and moved toward the door.

Someone bumped into his shoulder.

“Sorry –“ a familiar voice said, “oh, hi.”

Emil stopped, turning to face Sara. It was already two days since he saw her. Since she wordlessly handed him the results.

“Hey, how are you doing?” he asked with a smile.

“Busy but good. You?”

“Fine, I am fine… thanks for the autopsy, it was quick.”

“I am glad my fatigue hasn’t been noticed,” she gave him a smile.

Emil felt something twirling in his stomach. There was a moment of silence.

“I am sorry!” he blurred out.

“What for?” Sara asked, confused.

“Well, I acted like a typical man trying to be amazed by woman’s capability,” Emil ruffled his hair.

“But you’ve apologized!” she exclaimed.

“I did,” Emil admitted, “but I still feel bad for saying it in the first place… gender has nothing to do with what a person does or enjoys.”

“I would drink to that,” Sara agreed with a nod.

“You would?” So how about we actually do drink to it? With coffee?”

She smiled. “Sure, but I will pay for yours.”

“And I for yours.”

“Great,” Sara said and ran a hand through her hair, white gold shining brightly on her ringfinger. Emil noticed the ring when they first met, when she was pulling on her rubber gloves.

She followed his gaze, her smile suddenly fading on her lips.

“You didn’t mean it like…”

“No! Oh no, no, I didn’t. Not like a date. Just co-workers who want to have a good relationship since it seems they will be meeting each other quite often?”

Sara exhaled in relief. “Good. How does tomorrow’s lunch break sound?”

“Absolutely great if I won’t get another case. We are currently filing reports on the frozen guy, but we never know when we get something more urgent to do.”

“I understand. It’s the same for me.” She pulled out her phone, “Your number? So I can send you mine?”

Emil dictated it to her. They went together to the elevator, accompanied with a happy chit-chat, then they parted. The morgue was at the ground floor, while offices on the third.

Emil went to the little office he and Guang Hong occupied. It used to be a supply closet. He felt blessed every time he saw the little window placed high in the wall. The plant on his table won’t have survived without sunlight.

Guang Hong was already sitting at his desk, biting the end of his pencil. His eyes were flying over the stacks of paper concerning their latest case.

“There is something wrong,” he frowned.

“I know.”

“If there was someone to push him – why would he do it?”

“We can assume he was robbed, but it’s hard to tell – he could have lost his wallet in the water.”

“But when I rob someone I don’t need to push him of the bridge.”

Emil sat down, taking one of the papers. A picture of the dead body was included.

“Yeah…”

“His wife said he always wore watches.”

Emil read the list of belongings again even though he could recite it by heart. No watches. Just clothes, one shoe. No rings, or a pin he was said to be wearing on his suit almost every day.

“If only the camera was oriented a little to the south…”

Guang Hong sighed and rested his forehead on the table.

“Tired?” Emil asked.

“No, it’s just… this case is really frustrating.”

Emil could do nothing but agree. For a moment, there was silence.

Guang Hong’s phone beeped.

The younger man looked at the screen. A wide smile spread over his face.

“Good news?”

“Yeah, very good,” Guang Hong confirmed, “Leo’s signed the contract at Glac Records!”

“That’s great!” Emil exclaimed.

“It is! He can finally make it big! Oh, I am so happy…” Guang Hong started frantically typing. Emil watched his excited face before turning his eyes back to the paper in his hands. They ran out of options. They talked to the wife, colleges, brother, friends, watched the camera footage capturing the beginning and the end of the Rosemary Bridge, but there was nothing. No one running or stacking things in their coat. The next person that entered the bridge came almost an hour later.

“Guang Hong?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think Leo would be able to play at the Christmas Soiree? Does he do that kind of things?”

Guang Hong looked up from his phone. “Do you think captain Altin would approve of him? It sounded like he wanted someone more… classical there.”

“We can try, right?”

Guang Hong smiled. “Yes! Actually, playing at parties is the main income for Leo - that’s something I figured out on my own, so it’s not confirmed, but everything points to it and…”

Emil listened to his partner’s cheerful drivelling. He was happy to know so much about the rising star of the music scene. It made him forget about a body, cold and dead, which held too many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michele will be in the next chapter. Probably.  
> (I really like to set the scene and let the reader experience the protagonist without their love interest. You get to know the Emil who has no one beside him, yet he gets along with everyone.)
> 
> Thank you for reading ;)


	3. In the memory of a carrier pigeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil decides to send Otabek an email.  
> And another.  
> And another.
> 
> Otabek is resolved to pretend that he got none.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy it.  
> A normal chapter (with Mickey) will be coming in the next few days.

**Subject: _I found the perfect musician for the soiree_  
From: Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**Date: December 7** th, 6:51 AM

Good morning captain,

I didn't want to disturb you yesterday, since you were having a discussion with Georgi and you seemed to have a lot to talk about.

I think I have a musician for the soiree. I discussed the choice with a person highly educated about music. There is no need to worry. It's not a rock band. It's also not a metal one. (I know you probably don't care but I actually rpefer ska music, but I do not mind some ‘harder’ tunes).

The name of the musician I’m suggesting is Leo de la Iglesia. He is very good. Also very available (that is waht my music expert said). I even found his webpage: leoofficial.com. You can listen to some of his songs there.

I hope you consider him as a performer on the soiree. Have a great day.

Your favourite detective,

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _Was I too early?_  
From: Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**Date: December 7** th, 7:01 AM

Sir, I hope my email didn't wake you up. I’ve been up since 5 am so I haven’t considered the fact that it may be a little too early for others.  
Also, I think I’ve made a few mistakes in the last email I've sent you. I apologize.

Running to work,

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _Not actually running_  
From: Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**Date: December 7** th, 7:03 AM

I am not actually running to work. I am walking.  
I can see the main gate now! Yakov is on duty today! 

 

 **Subject: _Am I your favourite?_  
From: Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**Date: December 7** th, 7:06 AM

I've just realized I called myself your "favourite detective" in the first email. I hope you understand that I’ve meant it only as a joke. Not that I think you hate me. But I don't think I am your favourite. Seung-gil's reports are better organized as you've voiced many times before. 

I will try to do a better job,

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _How do you feel about Leo?_  
From: Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**Date: December 11** th, 6:53 PM

Sir, I don’t mean to pressure you but it has already been a few days. Maybe you’ve already answered me, but the email wasn’t delivered.  
What do you think of Leo? Do you like him? Will you hire him for the soiree? If not, it’s completely understandable. I am patiently waiting for your answer,

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _Me again_  
From: Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**Date: December 13** th, 4:02 PM

I’ve talked with my music expert again and we’ve been thinking that there is a high chance Leo already has something planned for the 22nd, sir. I hope you’d already contacted him. (If you’d chosen him, that is).

Excited,

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _Not at work_  
From: Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**Date: December 13** th, 4:48 PM

Sir, I was not texting at work. I was having a late lunchbreak. We (me and sergeant Ji) were investigating out of town on a far-off cottage and we were quite hungry, so we decided to eat.  
We’ve put it on your tab and said you will come and pay later. Is that okay? It’s the Taco Bell near the south road leading out of town. The blonde waitress will be awaiting you.

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _Just a prank, bro?  
_ Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**December 13** th, 4:54 PM

Sir, the last few sentences of the last email were a joke. Of course we’ve paid for our lunch ourselves. We do not expect you to drive to Taco Bell.  
(Also, the Loaded Potato Griller is highly underrated!)

I hope you aren’t mad,

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _Just asking  
_ Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**December 18** th, 1:03 PM

One thing has been bugging be for a while, sir, and you are the only one who knows the answer.  
Who will be the musician on the soiree? There is a lot of rumours going around. I do not want to contribute to them, but I must admit I am quite excited.  
(Is it Leo de la Iglesia?)  
Also, could you tell Georgi that it’s quite impossible to murder someone with a saltcellar? I’ve tried to explain it to him, but he doesn’t listen.

Thank you,

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _Wait, it IS possible!  
_ Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**December 18** th, 1:39 PM

After a discussion with sergeant Ji, I must admit murdering someone with a saltcellar is possible. If the saltcellar was big enough and/or salty enough. Also, it can be the secondary cause of death – a person may die from pain if they already have a big wound and you rub salt in it.  
There is no need to talk with Georgi. If you already did, then I am sorry for troubling you.

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _The dress code is quite strict, heh  
_ Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**December 20** th, 7:26 PM

Sir, I’ve come across the notice board (It’s bigger than I thought!) and saw the poster inviting everyone to the Christmas soiree.  
As you may have noticed I wore quite a colourful bowtie last year. That’s why I am writing to you. The poster said ‘subtle colours and darker shades’ will be appreciated. Does it mean I cannot wear a bright yellow bowtie?

Thank you for answering,

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _I do not wish to be the next fashion faux-pas  
_ Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**December 21** th, 1:54 PM

Sir, did you get my last email? I don’t want to be the cause of a commotion by wearing something inappropriate.  
(Even though I feel like telling people what kind of colours they are allowed to wear is quite disturbing. Isn’t telling us that we have to wear formal clothes enough?)  
But I respect your choices and understand you don’t want anyone wearing a yukata again.  
(Though judge Nikiforov looked great in it).

I hope I will not offend anyone,

Emil Nekola

 

 **Subject: _Glitter up  
_ Emil Nekola **[**emi.neko33@hotmail.com**](mailto:emi.neko33@hotmail.com)  
**December 21** th, 3:14 PM

Sir, do you recall Minami?  
He was the press agent’s assistant about two years ago. I’ve just found a picture of us from that year’s Christmas soiree. He wore (and rocked) a gold glitter suit with a red glitter bowtie. How can we deny people to wear such glorious outfits to tomorrow’s soiree? Now I really feel like the dress code is quite, well, silly. We need more glitters in our lives.

With all due respect,

Emil Nekola

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The grammar mistakes in the first email were written on purpose.
> 
> See you next level ;)


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